


to build a home

by manycoloureddays



Series: Witches and Warlocks and Housemates, Oh My [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, M/M, New Girl au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manycoloureddays/pseuds/manycoloureddays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke was here doing these three boys a favour; the only person to answer their ad online asking for “someone with no criminal record, a steady paycheck, and some goddamn common sense”. She didn’t need to be judged by Bellamy Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to build a home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvaRosier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/gifts).



> who sent me the prompt "roommates au for Bellamy/Clarke and I challenge you to make at least one character a witch! Tis the season."  
> i hope witch!Clarke makes your Halloween ♥

                “And then, after it had been going on for nearly four months, Raven and I realised we were both being played...”

                “So what you’re saying is, you and your _best friend_ didn’t realise you were sleeping with the same guy?”

                Clarke’s nostrils flared. It was bad enough having this conversation with her parents. It was bad enough having it with _Raven_. She didn’t need to be judged by Bellamy Blake. Who the hell did he think he was? She was here doing these three boys a favour; the only person to answer their ad online asking for “someone with no criminal record, a steady paycheck, and some goddamn common sense”.

                “Raven and I were barely even acquaintances until after we realised Finn had made us both the ‘other woman’, alright? Now we’re best friends. In a nutshell, my ex was a dick and I need a new place to live. Is this the place, or do I need to keep looking?”

                The last question she directed at the two other people sitting opposite her, Jasper and Miller. They all seemed like nice enough guys; well, Jasper and Miller seemed like nice enough guys. Bellamy seemed like he wasn’t going to murder her in her sleep. The three of them, turning to face each other and using the subtle shifting of eyebrows and facial muscles that can only be interpreted by old friends, seemed to come to the same conclusion. 

                “Welcome to the House of Fun,” Jasper grinned. Clarke could practically hear the capitalisation. “There are just two conditions...”

                “No break up wallowing. We had enough of that after Bellamy’s last one.” Miller ducked quickly, narrowly avoiding being clipped round the ear.

                “And no in house relationships- OI!” It appeared Jasper did not have the same finely honed reflexes as Miller.

                “You just have to manage to be less annoying that this one,” Bellamy stared her down. Clarke wasn’t sure whether it was meant to be intimidating or not, but it was definitely stupidly attractive. “Think you can manage it?”

                “I’ll bring my boxes over tomorrow morning then shall I?”

 

XX

 

                “No mum, they are not going to murder me in my sleep,” Clarke repeated, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, fiddling with the lock. “Even if they tried, you know I could turn them into frogs... When you say cliché do you really mean classic? Look I have to go...  I can’t get my door open left handed... Yes mum. Secrecy, utmost importance, I know all this... mmhmm...alright, love you too. Bye.”

                 Hanging up and putting down the box she’d been carrying, Clarke finally got the key in the lock. But before she could turn it, the door swung open. Standing before her – in all his post shower, shirtless glory – was Bellamy Blake. Looking at him now Clarke was beginning to see the flaw in her new living plan, but not for the homicidal reasons Abby had given.

                “Alright Princess?” Bellamy smirked, clearly aware that she was checking him out. Oh I’m in trouble. Shaking her head, as if that would get rid of the images of Bellamy without the inconvenient towel that he currently had wrapped around his waist, Clarke picked up her box and pushed past him, marching straight to her new room.

                “Why the rush Princess?” Clarke jumped. Of course he’d followed her. Quickly regaining her composure, Clarke did not turn around and absolutely did not acknowledge the nickname.  Instead she chose to focus on straightening out the chaotic mess of boxes that decorated her bedroom.  She figured eventually he would get bored and head back out to the kitchen where it sounded like Jasper was still attempting to use everything including the kitchen sink to create mini explosions, as Miller watched, eating peanut butter straight from the jar. So she was surprised once again when she turned around five minutes later to find him quietly looking through a box of books she had open near the door, still wearing nothing but a towel.

                “Seriously?”

                He looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

                “You didn’t want to ask first? Or put some clothes on?”

                “See something you like, Princess?” Bellamy didn’t even bother with the flirty smirk, or a quirk of his eyebrow, just went straight back to rifling through her stuff.

                Clarke knew she probably shouldn’t dignify that with a response but if she didn’t distract him from the contents of that box he would eventually get through her med school textbooks, biographies, and collection of paperback murder mysteries, and discover the collection she usually kept hidden under the floorboards. The grimoires, compendiums of magical lore and the bestiary her dad had given her for her birthday last year were not exactly moving day conversation starters. Not to mention she should probably deal with this nickname thing now or she’d be stuck with ‘Princess’ until she moved out.

                “Please, you are so not my type,” she scoffed, knowing it was a lie and hoping he didn’t have some freaky lie detector power like Wells. “And can we not with the Princess moniker please? Where did that even come from?”

                “Firstly, I’m everyone’s type _Princess_ ,” he emphasised the last word, staring her down. And again, Clarke wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to be intimidated or turned on. “Secondly, wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, perfectly enunciated words? You’re like every princess in every fairytale I ever read my sister...” Bellamy broke off suddenly, blushing, like he had just revealed more about himself than he intended.  Or maybe he’d just realised he was invading her personal space in nothing but a towel. Either way the atmosphere in the room changed rapidly, with Clarke grappling for the right words to erase the awkward, to smooth out the tension and go back to the strange but easy banter. Which was why when they heard a BANG from the kitchen and the smoke detector started beeping she was relieved instead of annoyed.

                “JASPER” they shouted in unison, Bellamy bolting from the room, still clutching his towel, Clarke hot on his heels.

 

XX

 

                The first time Raven stopped by the apartment to pick her up Clarke was roughly half an hour behind schedule.

                First there had been Jasper’s meltdown after he’d realised his goggles were missing (a hastily muttered locator spell and she had managed to find them on top of the fan in his bedroom; she wasn’t planning on asking for details); then Miller had been fired from his job as a nanny (requiring regular mortal style comforting and a lecture on teaching kids about drugs; it’s a very bad idea); and finally Bellamy’s latest ‘Octavia is dating another guy I don’t approve of’ rant (requiring a serious amount of eye rolling, an equally impressive rant about over protective brothers and minding one’s own business, and finally a strong soundproofing charm on her door so she could get ready in peace). She had been living with Bellamy, Miller and Jasper for a month now, and keeping her magic a secret was harder than it should have been. Bellamy had a habit of suddenly appearing when she thought she was alone, Miller was unnervingly observant, and Jasper, well it required a lot of magic to deal with Jasper’s day to day mishaps (which in the last week included creating the most potent alcoholic substance in the known universe, Clarke refused to call it a drink, ‘accidentally’ flushing Miller’s favourite beanie down the toilet, and drunk dialing Octavia Blake to profess his undying love). Clarke honestly thought it might just be easier to tell them the truth. Then she remembered all the lectures Abby had given her about secrecy, trust, and the potential for bringing back burning at the stake when hysteria was incited.

                When she finally emerged from her room, magically showered and changed in ten minutes, she heard Raven giving the boys her version of the shovel talk.

                “Clarke is the best person I know. If any of you,” Clarke could see Raven giving each of the boys a personal stare down, complete with scary as hell eye narrowing and one perfectly raised brow. “Even think about hurting her... I will crazy murder you.”

                While Miller and Jasper were thoroughly intimidated by Raven, and seemed to be taking her seriously, Bellamy leant back on the couch, arms crossed, as relaxed as he had been watching the basketball last night.

                “Are we going to have a problem Blake?” The sheer weight of her protective instinct, at least where Clarke was concerned, was palpable. Braver, stupider men than Bellamy Blake had run cowering from Raven when she used that tone. But now there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, like he’d just realised Raven was willing to go as far for Clarke as he would for Octavia.

                “Nope.”

                “What my monosyllabic platonic life partner is trying to say is...” Jasper began.

                “We won’t hurt Clarke,” Miller finished. “You can trust us with her.”

                “She’s family.” Bellamy spoke softly, looking at Clarke like he had known she was there from the beginning. And that settled the matter; Raven nodded, picked up her bag and walked towards the door, Miller flicked the television back on, and neither Bellamy nor Clarke broke eye contact until Raven reached over and dragged her out the door.

 

XX

 

                Family that shared strange moments of tension or not, living with Bellamy still had just as many downs as it did ups as far as Clarke was concerned. She always felt jumpy around him, magic hovering just below her skin, nerves like livewires. She couldn’t even go out for drinks with Raven at their favourite local anymore without running into him. Bellamy was now bartending at Grounders six nights a week, and while the occasional drink on the house was fantastic, the looks she was unable to interpret were not. Which was why, when Thursday rolled around again, and the boys were arguing over what movie to watch on their weekly film night, Clarke was grateful for a whole evening of staring at the screen with two person sized buffers between her and Bellamy.

 

                “What do you mean you won’t be home in time for the first one? It’s movie night Bellamy. It’s a tradition.” Jasper rolled his eyes at Bellamy’s response before hanging up with a disappointed “see you later, then.” Turning to Clarke and Miller, already set up on the couch with remotes, food and beer all in reaching distance, Jasper’s pout said it all.

                “Does Bellamy have to work late again?” Clarke asked. Nodding dejectedly Jasper plonked himself on the bean bag at her feet.

                “Bummer. I was really looking forward to Clarke watching Bellamy watch _Troy_ for the first time. It’s actually hilarious how little he understands the phrase ‘suspend your disbelief’.” Miller rolled his eyes. “When we were growing up, we were maybe eight years old ‘cause Octavia was around then, if it was raining and we couldn’t go outside he would make me watch hours of video taped history documentaries. I know far too much about baroque architecture and methods of mummification. Do you know why I know too much about it Clarke?” She shook her head. “Because I know _anything_ about baroque architecture and methods of mummification ,and about a hundred other obscure historical topics, Clarke. Because I know _anything_ about them!”

Clarke giggled, and burrowed further into the couch, resting her feet on Jasper’s shoulders.

                “Well maybe it’s lucky he isn’t here tonight. I’m feeling a movie marathon coming on and I don’t want it interrupted by Mr Grumpypants Blake and his absurdly accurate memory and eye for detail.” Blushing at Miller’s raised eyebrow she inhaled a handful of M&Ms and pressed play.

 

                An hour into Troy their pizza arrives. Jasper immediately stopped rubbing her feet, much to Clarke’s dismay, and jumped up to follow Miller to the door, hovering over his shoulder and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet; the exciting prospect of mozzarella and pepperoni turning him into an exuberant five year old. To be honest this was Clarke’s favourite part of movie night. Pizza, booze, an exorbitant amount of snacks, and the company of three (or in tonight’s case, two) people who were gradually becoming some of her favourite people in the world.

                Jasper handed her a plate full of pizza before lying flat on his stomach across the bean bag, Miller turning out the lights again.

                “Jas how many times do I have to tell you, it’s not good for your digestion if you lie like that?”

                “What would you know about that Dr Griffin? It’s not like you’re a medical professional or anything...” Poking her tongue out at him she waved her hand at the screen and the movie started playing again. Miller- and Clarke was really starting to worry about how observant her friend was- looked over at her curiously. She pulled the remote out from behind her.

                “Kind of like a butt dial, I guess?” She smiled innocently and turned back to the television.

 

                A half an hour into _300_ Jasper was snoring loudly, bellyflopped on top of the beanbag, hand resting in an empty pizza box.  Miller had curled up in the opposite corner to Clarke. He had the head snaps, which meant Clarke would be the only one to see the end of the movie, but she didn’t have the heart to call him on it. She startled when the door opened and light flooded into the loft from the hall. Bellamy slouched in, quietly closing the door behind him and taking his shoes off before making his way down the hall. It’s the little thoughtful things like this that occasionally lead to Clarke forgetting what a jackass he could be. He padded back ten minutes later wearing old tracksuit pants and his well worn blue shirt that absolutely did not make him more attractive. _Pull yourself together girl._ He’d carried in her favourite blanket as well, the bastard. Lifting her feet off the couch and sitting down, he let them flop across his legs while he pulled the blanket over them.

                “How was work?” Clarke tried to distract herself from his hands rubbing circles on her feet.

                “Long,” he groaned. “No seriously Princess, don’t laugh. I’m not a massive fan of people in general, but drunk people! Clarke! Why are they so stupid?” He squeezed her foot, making her squirm. She giggled; he looked like his faith in humanity had been tested spectacularly this evening.

                “Bellamy Blake, not so closet misanthrope.” He rolled his eyes. “You comfy? Can I start it again?” He nodded, grabbing the last of the chips and popcorn, and mixing them together. Clarke raised her eyebrows.

                “Shut up. I’m hungry and it all mixes together anyway. Now, is this movie night, or what?”

                They watched the movie in a comfortable silence for all of fifteen minutes.

                “Okay, I know I have to give them leeway for some things, but could they at least attempt to get the big stuff right?” Clarke looked over to see a look of consternation on Bellamy’s face. “Look at what they’re wearing Clarke!”

                “What do you mean?” Bellamy rolled his eyes. “What? It’s not like I’m an expert on the Thermo... Therma...”

                “Battle of Thermopylae.”

                “That’s the one. Look, you’re the one with the history degree Bellamy, not me.”

                “You don’t have to have a history degree to do research though. It’s not just the weird interpretation of oral history either. I can let that go,” when Clarke scoffs at that he shoved her feet off his lap and got up to start pacing. “I’m serious Clarke, it isn’t hard to do half an hour’s research on your time period and discover that Spartan women didn’t wear tank tops or whatever they’re wearing here.” After watching him rant about the state of Hollywood-ised history for another ten minutes, pacing up and down in front of the screen, and taking a large step over Jasper’s prone form whenever he passed him, Clarke interrupted.

                “How do you know so much about Sparta then? I thought you did all your research on the effect of colonisation and Western imperialism on indigenous culture.” He paused, looking at her like she’d sprouted another head. And really, that was just rude. “Hey, I listen.”

                “Yeah,” Bellamy’s voice sounded funny now. “Yeah, I suppose you do. Most people tune out when I get on a roll.” He closed his eyes for a second. “You listened when I spoke about my thesis?” She nodded. “Huh... Um, right. That’s what I did my doctoral thesis on, yes. I went through an Ancient Greek and Roman phase when I was about 8 though. Also there was an elective or two during my undergrad.”

                “So Miller was right. Watching _Troy_ without you was probably a good idea.”

                “ _Troy?_ Don’t get me started.” He said this of course, with the air of a man who was only just getting started. “Weapons and clothes and coins and art that are from different centuries, practices that are from different centuries, not to mention the usual things that get missed. It isn’t hard to get things right. Why do people have to get things wrong all the time?”

                “Yes, because the bastardisation of history by the cinematic ‘Powers That Be’ is absolutely the world’s biggest problem.”

                “I didn’t say that.” Clarke was kicking herself. If she let Bellamy get started on ‘Humanity’s Biggest Problems: A Full List by Bellamy Blake’ they’d be arguing all night. Not to mention accidentally waking Miller and Jasper was not exactly an exciting prospect.

                “I know. I know you didn’t,” she whispered. Attempting to placate him without it being interpreted as condescending had been one of the first things she’d learnt after moving in. Unfortunately she didn’t always get it right. Her first week in the apartment had ended in her throwing a shoe at his head when he wouldn’t stop blaming her for her parent’s money, as if she hadn’t stopped relying on them the second she could be financially and emotionally independent.

Three days after that he had burnt four pieces of toast after he’d become distracted arguing that just because he was protective of his sister didn’t mean he had no respect for her agency. Now though, they tended to patiently talk the other through issues they had; issues of privilege and respect and understanding, until Jasper and Miller complained that they would hear less talk about politics if they slept on the floor in the Oval Office- Bellamy had offered to drive them to D.C to test that theory.  Maybe patiently wasn’t the right word though. Maybe they just thrived on the challenge the other presented. If one of them could convince the other that they were right it was a bigger win than if they convinced most other people they knew. _Maybe we both need to get out more._

                “So, are there any historical movies with anachronisms that you _can_ stand?” She asked, more from a need for the safety of an argument than for any actual interest in his answer.

                “No?” Clarke really wished it wasn’t so easy to read him. Wished that his face wasn’t the cutest version of ‘did you really expect a different answer’ she had ever seen. Wished she wasn’t so ready to let down her defences, or that her two person sized buffers were awake and preventing her from making a huge mistake like kissing that confused look off his face. _Wait, what?_ “Actually, if you count historical fantasy, I love the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, oh and anything Disney. Do you know how many times I had to watch Aladdin with Octavia when she was little? Disney movies get free passes.”

                “Seriously? That’s it? What about Gladiator, or Braveheart, or, I don’t know, what are other movies everyone loves?”

                “Not everyone loves Gladiator and Braveheart. Everyone loves Toy Story, not historical fiction Princess. You’re not getting your love of shirtless men confused with everyone else’s love of Pixar are you?” Clarke rolled her eyes.

                “Yeah, those things are so easily confused, ass,” Clarke threw a pillow at him. She winced when it only just missed the television, before picking up a second one.

                “Hey!” As Bellamy bent down to pick up the offending cushion Clarke aimed the next one at his head.

                “Shhh,” she glared at him. “You’ll wake the boys.” The second cushion hit him square in the face, and Clarke couldn’t help but grin. She hadn’t even used magic to improve her aim. Bellamy glanced down at Jasper’s prone form and raised his eyebrows at her.

                “You’re joking? Jasper can sleep through anything.” That was true. Just last week Octavia had come over to ‘borrow’ their kitchen; apparently she could only bake after dark with music blasting and her roommate didn’t appreciate it. Neither had Bellamy, Miller and Clarke, but Jasper had slept through the whole ordeal, not even realising Octavia had been there until well after she was gone.

                “Well maybe you should be quiet anyway. You’ll wake Miller up,” she whisper-shouted, throwing the last cushion from the couch at his face. This time Bellamy caught it, spinning it between his hands.

                “Relax princess; nobody’s going to wake up. It’s just you and me.” Clarke smirked, tiptoeing over to where Miller was curled up in the corner of their L shaped couch. She tried to extricate the cushion he had hugged to his chest without waking him up, but the more she pulled the tighter he held on, the frown lines on his forehead getting deeper. She tore her eyes away from Bellamy, looking down to figure out how best to manoeuvre her ammunition only to find one of Miller’s eyes wide open, glaring at her sleepily.

                “Can you two get a room, and take your awkward nerdy mating rituals with you?” Without relinquishing the cushion he pulled his beanie down over his ears and went back to sleep. Clarke blushed furiously, muttered something about an early morning, grabbed her blanket and slunk off to her bedroom.  Life with Bellamy; _just_ as many downs as ups.

 

XX

 

                “You know I love you babe.”

                Clarke flinched. When Raven prefaced conversations with ‘I love you’ they usually ended in a ‘but’ that Clarke didn’t want to hear.

                “But why the hell are all your clothes in your suitcase when you moved in over a month ago?” Raven was using the tone she usually reserved for her conversations with Jasper; her ‘this is stupidly obvious and you’re stupid for not getting it so I refuse to spell it out for you, but just so you know you’re stupid’ tone. And okay it _was_ stupidly obvious, and Clarke _didn’t_ need it spelled out for her, but living out of her suitcase was her only option; her only option that didn’t include rocking up on Finn’s doorstep, witch’s hat in hand, asking for her wardrobe back.  The day she had moved out she had only grabbed what she could carry. Admittedly she could carry quite a lot when it was as light as a feather in a magically enlarged suitcase, but not even a witch can carry a wardrobe and desk down the street without attracting suspicion.

                “Finn has my wardrobe.” Clarke couldn’t quite meet Raven’s eye.

                “Sorry, what?” Raven shook her head. “Nope. Not important. Let’s go get it.”

                Clarke raised an eyebrow.

                “How? We can’t just... we can’t just ‘go get it’”, she floundered, searching for a reason they couldn’t go get it. Because it couldn’t be that easy.

                “Clarke, babe, we can definitely just go get it.” Raven smirked. “C’mon, get your bag and your boys. Finn Collins doesn’t get to keep your magic wardrobe of magic. Besides, I haven’t had a chance to take it apart to see what makes it tick yet.” She jiggled her car keys under Clarke’s nose. “Your Highness’ chariot is waiting.”

                “Oh don’t you start,” Clarke grumbled, trailing after her.

 

XX

                When they’d all piled into Raven’s held-together-with-love-and-mechanic’s-magic car she tore off down the street like a bat out of hell. And Clarke should know; she’d seen actual bats from hell and they looked very similar to Raven Reyes on a mission.

                “Reyes, do you think you could take your foot off the gas?” Miller griped.

                “Raven doesn’t do speed limits. Apparently they’re ‘more like guidelines’”, Clarke grinned over at him. Beside her, Raven cackled, her plan to overcome all stereotypes be damned, and Clarke remembered the one good thing that came out of her time with Finn.

               

                Fifteen minutes later Clarke was standing on the doorstep of the house she used to share with Finn having a staring contest with the doorbell. She knew it was illogical, but she still couldn’t quite bring herself to ring it. Jasper, Miller and Raven were waiting by the car, but Bellamy was leaning against a tree only 10 feet away. She took a deep breath and pushed the button, taking a step back to wait.

                “Clarke! How are you?” Finn’s face lit up when he saw her. “I’ve missed you so much. Really, how’ve you been?” He took a step towards her, leaning in for a hug and Clarke tensed. And then Bellamy was standing behind her; shoulders back, arms crossed, and that ‘don’t fuck with me’ look on his face. Finn took a step back, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

                “I’m fine. Great actually,” Clarke smiled. Gesturing behind her in the general direction of the car she added “Raven’s great too. We adopted the boys I’m living with, got a whole little family of our own.”

                 At the sound of her name Raven had come skipping over. Clarke reached out and grabbed her hand. She smiled; whether she ended up getting what she came for at least she had this.

                “ _Raven_! You never answered my letters? I miss you. Whatever else happened between us I thought we’d always be friends.” Finn’s face drooped; going for adorable, sad puppy and missing by a mile.

                “Well Finn, I tend not to allow negative energy into my life anymore. I thought you’d be proud.”

                “Hang on a minute,” Bellamy butted in; and really, Clarke couldn’t take him anywhere. He and Jasper could put the old lady who lived next door to her when she was growing up to shame, the amount of gossip they managed to wrangle out of people was astounding. “Did you say letters? Actual letters?”

                “Oh yeah. I’m not a fan of modern technology. I try to keep my house as green as possible.”

Bellamy scoffed. Finn looked ready to go on a rant, and Clarke couldn’t remember why she had found that attractive. She felt Raven squeeze her hand and glanced at her in time to catch an almighty eyeroll.

                “Oh sure, writing multiple letters to someone who isn’t responding is such a good use of paper, and the postal service, and her time.”  Bellamy was like a shark smelling blood when it came to sensing an argument he deemed invalid, hypocritical, or juvenile. But his face remained impassive. Clarke got the feeling he didn’t think Finn was worth his time.

                “What exactly are you implying?” Finn didn’t seem to have gotten the memo though, his face burning red at the perceived accusation.

                 Rolling his eyes, Bellamy turned to Clarke, “Come on Princess, let’s get what we came for and get out of here.”

                “Right. Finn, I was wondering if,” the pressure on her hand increased, and Clarke changed tacks. “I need the wardrobe and desk I left here. Mainly the wardrobe. Can I go in and get it?”

                “Oh,” Finn sounded disappointed. As if there could be another reason his two ex girlfriends would show up at his door with three boys in tow. “Um, sure. The desk’s in the shed. Your wardrobe seems to have a mind of its own though. Wouldn’t budge when I tried to move it, and the handle burned white hot when I tried to open it.” Apparently completely oblivious to Clarke’s furious headshaking, and Raven’s intensified glare, Finn barreled on. “I swear Clarke; I don’t understand why your wardrobe doesn’t like me. I mean, it isn’t like I’m a stranger, or a mortal. It didn’t have a problem with me before you left and...”

                “Finn, I swear to the goddess, if you don’t shut your mouth right now,” Raven threatened, glancing over at Bellamy, and then behind them to where Miller and Jasper had drifted closer to the house.

                “Whoops, haven’t you already told your ‘family’ your big witchy secret?” And there was the vindictive judgemental side Clarke had only discovered after the break up.

                “Whether or not Clarke has told us about her being a witch is none of your business, now let her go in and get her things so we can leave and forget we ever met you,” Bellamy growled. Clarke’s grip on Raven’s hand tightened as she attempted to steady herself. She stared at Bellamy, not bothering to lift her jaw up off the floor or mask her incredulity. Because how in the world did Bellamy Blake know about witches? She didn’t have time to deal with that bombshell however, as Bellamy strode forward looking determined; determined to break Finn’s nose if he didn’t step aside.

Clarke reached her free hand out to stop him moving. She had no idea how he could be taking this so calmly, especially because she could practically hear Jasper and Miller’s mimed freak out behind her, but she wasn’t going to push her luck. Still holding on tight to Raven’s hand she pushed past Finn into the house they used to share.

                “How do you want to handle this?” Raven whispered.

                “Do you want to take Bellamy and grab the desk from the shed? I’ll check the wardrobe.” Nodding, Raven called out to Bellamy and led him out the back. “C’mon Clarke, you can do this.” Straightening her shoulders she marched into Finn’s room.

 

                She ran her fingers over the runes engraved on the front panels of her wardrobe. It had been a gift from her parents for her sixteenth birthday. She could still remember translating it that night, realising the doors were enchanted to protect her secrets. She had been ranting at Abby for months about privacy and personal space, and her parents had reciprocated by giving her exactly what she needed; doors that only opened to people she trusted with the secrets they protected. Overcome with a sudden wave of homesickness she didn’t notice Miller walking in.

                “Hey, Clarke? Bellamy and Raven have tied the desk to the roof, we’re ready when you-” he broke off suddenly and walked over til he was standing right beside her, facing the wardrobe. “Hey, you okay?”

                “Yeah,” quietly wiping away any tears that may or may not have welled up in her eyes. “Yeah, I just want to go home.” Miller wrapped his arm around her, tugging her close.

                “Well, we can make that happen as soon as we get this gorgeous piece of craftsmanship in the back of Raven’s car. Which reminds me, can we please not let her drive home? Because I am genuinely afraid of her.” Clarke chuckled, grinning up at him. “Don’t you dare tell her though.”

                “Or what?”

                “Well I can’t get you turned into a frog unfortunately, because that seems to be your domain. I’m sure I’ll think of something though.” Clarke stiffened, she had forgotten that she needed to deal with this. Needed to fix it so they wouldn’t be afraid, or think she was lying, or both. But the look on Miller’s face wasn’t his ‘goddammit Jasper what the hell have you done this time’ look, or his ‘shit I forgot to call my grandma for her birthday yesterday and now my ears are going to be ringing for days’ look, so he wasn’t angry or scared. “Clarke, chill. We already knew you had to be loopy. You moved into an apartment with three guys you had never met before, and you are best friends with Raven ‘I Am a Law unto Myself’ Reyes. This is just a whole other level of weird that we weren’t expecting.”

                “So I’m still less annoying that Jasper, is that it?”

                “Yeah, that’s it. Now come on Griffin, let’s get going! Can you use magic to make this super light or something?” He looked positively gleeful, and Clarke was sure that had something to do with being able to use that sentence for the first time in real life. From what she’d heard it was a pretty cool feeling.

                “Unfortunately the magic imbued in the wood means I can’t change the physical nature of the wardrobe in any way.” Miller’s face fell. “I can, however, levitate it out to the car. Wanna be my lookout? Make sure no one who shouldn’t see this, sees it?” And his grin was back. She turned back to face the doors, and placing both palms on it, muttered a few choice words. Miller bounced ahead of the wardrobe and Clarke followed behind, watching her friend’s face as he witnessed his first piece of magic.

                “Jasper! OI JORDAN, get a look at this!” Jasper whirled around so fast Clarke was worried he would go careening into the gardenias she’d planted last spring. Turning to look behind her she caught a glimpse of Finn’s wrist out of the corner of her eye. And attached to his wrist was her father’s watch. The watch she thought she’d lost forever; Finn had consoled her over the loss of that watch. She saw red.

                “FINN COLLINS! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH MY FATHER’S WATCH?” Her sudden rush of anger distracted her from the levitation charm. Before the wardrobe had time to crash to the ground Raven had run over to pick up where Clarke left off. Bellamy, instinctually moving forward to catch a falling object, was knocked sideways by the wardrobe when Raven’s spell kicked in. His legs flailed wildly, and his pinwheeling arms grabbed hold of one of the door handles. Coats, shoes, scarves, and Clarke’s magical accessories (including a cauldron, her first spellbook, and the purple witch’s hat she’d received at her graduation ceremony) littered the front lawn, and at the centre stood Clarke, looking so furious it was a wonder Finn didn’t spontaneously combust.

                “Finn,” her voice a whisper now, “why do you have my watch?”

                “It was under the wardrobe. I found it when I was trying to figure out how to move the damn thing.” Finn looked at it warily. The wardrobe, doors hanging open, and empty of all its contents, seemed unworthy of his hesitance. Clarke, however, did not. Standing still in the middle of the half destroyed front yard, her breathing heavy, her hair previously in a ponytail now hanging loose around her face, she stared Finn down. “Give it back Finn,” Clarke said calmly, still trying to reign in her magic. “I want my watch back.” When he didn’t respond straight away she took a step forward, Bellamy and Raven closing ranks on either side.

                “Give her the watch Finn.”

                “Come on man, give her the watch.”

                “Hand it over Collins.”

                Finn, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, glanced around for backup. Unfortunately for him he was surrounded by some of the people who loved Clarke most in the world. From where she stood, arms raised and a hundred curses at the ready, Clarke could see Raven smirking back at her, a glint of amusement in her eyes, ready to jump in whenever Clarke needed. Beside her was Bellamy, stony faced while looking at Finn, but with a something that looked like pride in his eyes when he watched Clarke. Miller was leaning up against the wardrobe, which had accepted his presence with grace, while Jasper stood beside him.

                “Turn him into a frog, Griffin!” Like an enthusiastic supporter at a sporting event, Jasper was grinning like an idiot; cheering her on, and adding his – invariably inappropriate – advice from the sidelines. “No wait, a cockroach. No, no, turn him into a weasel!” Catching Raven’s eye he mouthed ‘can she do that?’ his grin becoming impossibly wider when he received a nod in response.

                “Better yet, let’s make it so he can’t ever get another girl into bed with him again. C’mon Clarke, no one ever has to know when the only two magical witnesses swear it never happened.” The glint in Raven’s eyes had gotten sharper, her face set in what was surely the most dangerous glare Clarke had ever seen. It was this more than anything else that snapped her out of her rage. She wasn’t going to lose her friends, go to jail, over Finn fucking Collins.

                “No.” Raven looked stunned. “No Raven he isn’t worth it.” Clarke took a deep breath; she could still feel her power pulsing just below her skin, desperately trying to act on her anger. “Finn, please. Give me the watch.”

                “Alright, okay, geez Clarke, if I knew it meant that much to you I’d have sent it straight over.” Clarke held her hand out, but Finn didn’t make a move to hand over the watch. He scanned the yard, eyes landing on her hat. “One condition though, seeing as you’ve destroyed half my yard. I want the hat. I could use an object with its properties.”

                Clarke was so close to conceding, giving Finn her hat and leaving with the watch; so close. Then Bellamy was picking up the hat and planting it firmly on his head. The burst of laughter from Raven was enough to break what little tension was left in the yard after they had witnessed Bellamy Blake donning a purple and silver witch’s hat. Then Jasper was lurching forward and picking up Clarke’s cauldron; he shoved it on his head and planted himself firmly next to Bellamy, sticking his tongue out at Finn. Miller smirked.

                “Are we doing this? Is this really something that we’re doing?” Miller’s amused tone undercut his attempt at gruff confusion. He shrugged, then he wrapped his arms protectively around the wardrobe he was still standing next to. “Collins, you are not getting your grubby little hands on any of Clarke’s things. Give her the watch man.”

                A bead of hope bubbled up inside Clarke; she could have this, this safety, this hilarity, this family, even with the truth. Finn passed the watch over quickly after that.

 

                Once Clarke and Raven had packed everything into the car, and Raven was safely buckled in to the passenger seat as per Miller’s request, Finn walked towards Clarke. Before she had a chance to get in the car, drive off and leave him standing in the dust, he leant forwards and whispered in her ear.

                “I knew you’d move on Clarke. But seriously, how the hell can that asshole open the wardrobe when I couldn’t.”

 

XX

 

                In the three months since Clarke had let the cat out of the bag, she had gradually pieced together just how Bellamy had figured out she was a witch. With reflection, she hadn’t really made it hard for him. Apparently hiding your grimoire at the back of your bookshelf and then giving your nosy roommate permission to go looking for a book he wanted to borrow inevitably led to him finding said grimoire instead. And then it just took several of her all-to-comfortable-here moments for him to start believing what he had read.

                “C’mon Princess, give me _some_ credit. There was no way Octavia’s leg healed that quickly with _just_ your med school knowledge to help it out.” And, okay, Clarke had been more than a little worried about the mysterious bite Octavia had limped in with one day; using magic to be triple sure infection wasn’t going to spread because her patient had refused to tell her what had bitten her.  Subtlety thy name has never been Clarke Griffin.

 

                One day, when she had less on her mind, Clarke was going to get to the bottom of Octavia’s myriad unusual and unnatural injuries. She had other priorities though, after the incident on Finn’s front lawn.  More specifically, after Bellamy had found himself swinging from her wardrobe doors and Clarke had been forced to abandon the antique hinges and order new ones. She had spent the entire day waiting for the package to finally arrive. Magical or not, the antique dealer’s delivery services were the kind that advertised a drop off between 8am and 4pm. So Clarke had spent her day alone pacing the loft (slipping across the newly refinished floorboards in the purple fluffy socks Jasper had given her, the ones with black cats and gold stars; “they’re _hilarious_ Clarke, trust me”)  trying to force Finn’s last words out of her head. It wasn’t like she hadn’t realised she trusted Bellamy. But trusting him that much, to have the wardrobe open for Bellamy, especially when on bringing it home it still hadn’t opened for Miller and Jasper, was more than a little confronting. So she had pushed it out of her mind, focused on her work at the hospital, Wells’ birthday party, dusting the top of the kitchen cupboards. Because in order for the wardrobe to open like that she needed to trust Bellamy with her deepest secrets, every dark corner of her heart, and that was frightening. Not least because the only people it had opened for before had needed to ask permission first. That kind of blind trust was not something Clarke usually allowed herself. She had successfully put it out of her mind until the dealer had called the night before to remind her she needed to be home to sign for the package.

                She heard the sounds of a key in the lock, interrupting her cyclical inner monologue, and she spun around to see Bellamy standing in the doorway.

                “Are you alright, Princess? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He was carrying a box that looked suspiciously like her hinges. “Remember I said I was coming home between Diggs’ stag do and dinner with O?” When she didn’t say anything, Bellamy continued talking, trying to get something to stick. “I do live here you know.”

                Shaking her head slightly, Clarke focused on Bellamy’s face properly for the first time since he’d walked in. He looked worried. She hated that.

                “Yeah, sorry, weird day,” his shoulders relaxed, no longer in fight or _fight_ mode. “That box for me?” She stuck her hands out and he dropped the box into them.

                “Need help with those?”

                “Need help,” she scoffed. “I’m a witch, Blake. _Need_ help? Honestly.” He chuckled, plonking himself down on the couch.

                “Never doubted you for a second, Griffin.” Clarke spun around and bowed with a flourish, flicking her hair back and laughing. She only ever felt this young around Bellamy. She really was an old twenty six. “Oh, before you go fix your wardrobe, Master Craftswoman...” Clarke nodded for him to continue, “The three of us were all planning on going to Diggs and Roma’s wedding together, but Diggs said it was weird that you’d been living with us for nearly half a year and he hadn’t met you yet. What do you say? Wanna go to a wedding with me, Princess?” Bellamy’s voice was steady, smirk cocky, but his eyes gave him away. He was nervous. Clarke smiled. Maybe it wasn’t a problem like she’d assumed so many months ago.

                “Sounds like fun.”

 

 

XX

 

                Clarke had felt strange going to a wedding when she didn’t know either of the people getting married, but the ceremony had been beautiful. She had recognised Roma’s bridesmaid Monroe, with her braids unchanged since high school, although the stony expression she had from fifth grade til the end of senior year had given way to a tentative smile. Clarke had enjoyed catching up with her over gin and tonics. It had been less nice to hear the gory details of her break up with Bellamy, but once she’d followed her fifteen minute rant with “seriously though, we were just really _really_ bad for each other. We’ve been friends since college, but we’re just not cut out for a full time, full on relationship. And then there was the whole maybe he felt more like my brother than my boyfriend thing. After that realisation... well, sex got really awkward” Clarke had felt better. Surely if she could live with the guy for six months – and the little family of four they’d created in apartment 100 was the kind that tended to live more in each other’s pockets than out of them – she could handle where she felt they’d been heading since ‘ _you’re_ here about the room?’  And what she felt for Bellamy was definitely not sisterly.

               

                “ _Clarke_ ,” Miller hissed into her ear an hour and three free drinks later. Clarke loved an open bar. She grinned up at him, reaching out to touch his head.

                “You’re not wearing your beanie.” Miller snorted.

                “Nice observation Nancy Drew, c’mon I need you over here.” He tugged her up, smiling apologetically at Monroe and Octavia. She waved over her shoulder and followed Miller out into the foyer.

                “Now really, you’re not a Neanderthal. You can’t just ask me to...” Clarke broke off. Curled up in a corner, inhaling a bag of Jordan almonds between panicked breaths, was Jasper. “Alright, what happened?” Giggling with the girls about the horrific dancing of some of the other guests completely forgotten, Clarke slipped into doctor mode without a second thought. She felt his forehead, looking up at Miller and Bellamy, who had once again appeared out of nowhere, for an explanation.

                “I have no idea. I don’t even know how long he’s been here? Blake, you know how much he’s had to drink?”

                “I don’t _know_ what’s going on, but Jasper’s a few beers and half a bottle of tequila in, and hyperventilating in a corner while we’re surrounded by people from college so I have a pretty good idea.” Comprehension dawned on Miller’s face. Clarke cleared her throat, imploring them to let her in on whatever the hell was going on.

                “Monty’s here,” Jasper wheezed. “Monty’s here, and last time I saw him I fucked everything up.” Clarke winced, all the pieces falling into place. Jasper’s hesitance to come dateless, the general air of quiet surrounding him that was so out of place it made her jumpy, and now this. Clarke had only known Monty Green a few months before the now infamous Green/Jordan BFF break up. One meeting was all it had taken for her to absolutely adore the guy though; he was one of those people you trusted implicitly. He and Jasper had apparently been joined at the hip most of their lives, but shortly after she had moved in there had been an incident. Jasper and Monty had gone out after they finished up work as lab techs at the local high school and they hadn’t been expecting Jasper home til late. He had shown up completely off his face at 8.30pm ranting about his “fucking asshole best friend! Who the hell does he think he is dropping shit like that out of fucking nowhere?” Clarke had wanted to sober him up, put him to bed and ask questions in the morning, but Bellamy had insisted that as soon as he sobered up, he’d clam up, so they’d lightly interrogated him that evening. Long story short, Jasper had been waxing poetic about Octavia (again), but instead of being the only person to put up with it as he normally was, Monty had told Jasper to get over her. According to a completely rat-arsed Jasper he had asked Monty “what, like you got over me?” They hadn’t spoken - except for explicitly work related things - in nearly a month, though Jasper hadn’t given up trying to make amends.

                “Okay, okay,” Clarke soothed. “So Monty’s here. That’s okay isn’t it? You see him nearly every day at work.” Jasper just shook his head.

                “Clarke,” and her heart aches for him, because no one’s voice should sound like that, but especially Jasper’s. Jasper, whose voice is always full of energy and hope, whose words are either high key excited or just plain high, shouldn’t sound broken. “Monty’s here with someone.”

                “Oh,” Clarke looked over at Bellamy, who looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. “Well, sweetie, Monty deserves to be happy, and-“

                “Monty deserves the world Clarke, he deserves the moon.” Caught halfway between giggling at her friend’s drunkenness and pulling him into a bone breaking hug Clarke settled for something a little more magical.

                “Alright you, let’s sober you up quick smart so we can all get back to having fun and focus on the real goal of the evening, other than watching two people get married of course.”

                “And what exactly is that, Princess?” Bellamy quipped, seeming to catch onto her plan.

                “Well, aren’t you boys supposed to be showing me off to all your friends? So let’s go have fun and try and forget that we are all painfully single at a wedding reception full of couples.” She paused, getting to her feet and coming face to face with a full on Bellamy Blake glare. “That sounded _way_ more positive in my head I swear.” Turning back to face Jasper, she brushed the nonexistent fluff off her dress (a gorgeous red number Raven had coerced her into buying; “you’ll regret it if you don’t Griffin. This dress’ll get you laid”) and tried to pull Jasper to his feet. Clarke only succeeded in stumbling backwards into Bellamy. She leant back into him, appreciating the proximity she didn’t usually allow herself while Miller handled the moving of a stubborn intoxicated body.

                “Oof,” he groaned. “Come on. Dude, how much do you weigh?” Miller was supporting most of Jasper’s weight. He held out his hand to Clarke and she remembered her promise to sober him up a little. Digging through her handbag she found the crackers she had put in there before they left the apartment. Although they looked, innocently enough, like wafer thin water crackers, there was a secret ingredient that helped them soak up excessive amounts of alcohol in a person’s system. Raven had given Clarke the recipe a few months ago and she really wished she’d known about it during her undergrad years (Raven’s hangover cure would also have come in handy). She passed one of the crackers to Miller, careful not to break it.

 

                “I love magic,” Jasper sighed, still tipsy but not nearly as inebriated as he had been, ten minutes later. The four of them had made their way out of the foyer and were sitting at one of the many vacant tables. Downing two shots in quick succession, Clarke stood up. Most people were already dancing. Clarke had not come to this wedding solely for the open bar, and what had ended up being rather pathetic company. She schooled her expression into one that had, on occasion, struck fear into the hearts of men, and put her hands on her hips.

                “Who’s dancing with me first?” Best not to let them think they had any way out of it from the get go. Jasper feebly shook his head, clearly still reeling from the rapid detox, and Miller immediately looked away from her, employing the high school strategy ‘if the teacher doesn’t see me looking surely they won’t pick on me’ which Clarke had always thought must have stemmed from the childlike theory ‘if I can’t see them, they can’t see me’. She grabbed Bellamy by the hand and dragged him out onto the dance floor.

                “Claaaarke,” he groaned, attempting to dig his heels into the incredibly helpful polished wood floor. “Please don’t make me dance.”

                “Oh would you relax, you look like you’re constipated.” She tugged his other hand out of his pocket and placed both of them on her waist. “And believe me, not even you can pull that off.”

                “Not even me, hey?” She looked up blushing, expecting to see a self satisfied smirk. But no, Bellamy couldn’t possibly be predictable. He was smiling at her, just this side of vulnerable, like he expected her to take the comment back but was going to enjoy the slip of the tongue anyway. Clarke looked away.

                “Yeah, yeah, you’re gorgeous and we both know it. Don’t let that add to your already enormous ego will you?”

                He chuckled.  His grip on her hips tightened. He had pulled her in closer, so close that if she tilted her head up instead of to the side... well... Clarke suddenly felt like the room was far too small and they were far too close, and the floodgates were opening and she would never be able to hold everything back. Surely Bellamy could see it all written across her face. He didn’t need to be a mind reader, her face was burning bright enough she was surely lighting up the room. And when had she tangled her hands in the curls at the base of his neck?

                And then the song changed and Jasper was tapping her on the shoulder, asking if he could cut in. Clarke looked up in time to catch a here-and-gone flicker of jealousy in Bellamy’s eyes, followed quickly by- was that relief? He bent down with a flourish, dramatically bowing out, and Clarke was suddenly doing the chicken dance with Jasper and Miller.

                “ _I don’t wanna be a chicken, I don’t wanna be a duck...”_ Jasper’s hands were going a mile a minute, at least twice as fast as the song playing in the background. Miller was barely making any chicken style hand gestures, one hand occupied by his phone, recording the hilarity. Clarke was too busy laughing at Jasper to complain about the lack of enthusiastic roommate dancing.

                “Bell!” Octavia’s voice boomed from where she was slow dancing to the Chicken Dance music with an incredibly hairy young man Clarke was sure she had seen somewhere before. “Aren’t you going to join them big brother?”

                 Bellamy, who had moved to sit back down at their table after Jasper had cut in, was looking incredibly uncomfortable. Presumably at the idea of dancing with his three roommates in front of people who had known him since his late teens, although Clarke had a sneaking suspicion it also had something to do with being close to her again. Before Clarke could swoop in with something diplomatic and reception-saving Octavia was herding her brother out of his seat and over to where she, Miller and Jasper were still absentmindedly making pecking movements with their hands. Pulling a camera out of nowhere, she wielded it at Bellamy like a weapon.

                “Come on Bell, don’t you remember when you took me to that school dance? You promised you’d always dance with me when I wanted you to.” Bellamy rolled his eyes.

                “ _With you_ , O. And only because you were worried no one would want to dance with you. The promise did not include dances with the lunatics I live with, especially when they have two partners each at last count.” Octavia’s eyes narrowed, and Clarke knew that look. That was the “Bellamy, I am going out with the girl you dated in high school and there’s nothing you can do about it” look, and the “I will be baking chocolate chip cookies at 12.30 in the morning in your kitchen and there’s nothing you can do about it” look, and the “Clarke Griffin if you hurt my brother I will bury you alive and there is nothing _he_ can do about it” look. Bellamy was so screwed.

                “Alright already, Octavia. Sheesh. Give a guy a break.” He stuck his hands in the air slowly, like he was afraid she was going to shoot. Then he started moving his hands, still glaring at Octavia, until it became glaringly obvious to all involved that the Chicken Dance was not something you did half heartedly, or angrily. It demanded a smile from each and every participant. And that was magic even the biggest sceptic had to believe in.

               

                Clarke had danced with everyone she knew, and some people she didn’t, by the time she collapsed in a chair an hour later. Taking off the ridiculous shoes Octavia had leant her she swung her legs up onto another chair, resting her head halfway between her arm and the table. Octavia was now laughing hysterically at Monroe who had been roped into dancing with an incredibly intoxicated father of the bride. Jasper was leading Miller in an increasingly frenzied dance routine he had had Clarke attempting earlier. And Bellamy, who had a moment before been waltzing around with Octavia standing on his feet, strappy blue heels hanging off her fingers, and dangling behind his back, was nowhere to be seen. Focusing all her limited concentration on finding him, she didn’t notice she was no longer sitting alone until Monty cleared his throat. His smile was tight, and he wouldn’t meet her eye. She whipped her feet under the table, sitting up straight.

                “Clarke.” No greeting, no smile, no indication that that was actually Monty; that was ominous.

                “Monty. How are you doing?” The tension visibly dissipated at Clarke’s query. Clearly he had been worried she wouldn’t want to talk to him. Clarke’s hatred of the current situation doubled; it was getting ridiculous and it needed to stop. Yesterday.

                “Not bad. Saw you dancing with Bellamy before. Is that finally a thing?”

                “What? No?” Clarke blushed furiously.

                “That sounds more like a question than a dismissal of a ridiculous idea to me.”  

                “Alright, I’ll answer your question as honestly as I can – and believe me, it’s still in first draft form in my own head – if you stop with the avoidance tactics and talk to me.” Clarke allowed herself a small smile, nothing that would scare him away, when she followed Monty’s gaze as it flicked to Jasper and back.

                “I hate this, you know?” Monty took a deep breath. “I hate that I’m not talking to him. But at the same time, I just, I can’t face it.” Clarke reached out for his hand, squeezing it. “He _knew_. He _knew,_ and he didn’t say anything until the worst possible moment and he said it in the worst possible way. I guess my mum was right; it’s the people that you love the most that hurt you the worst. Every single memory I have, even if he’s not specifically in it, I know he was around. And the last few months have been... let’s say weird and not analyse too much okay?” He waited until Clarke nodded before continuing. “I want everything to go back to normal, but I can’t just go back to being his best friend and listen to him moon over other people. It just hurts too much.”

                “Monty,” Clarke really had no idea where to begin. On the one hand she knew how much Jasper wanted things to get back to normal. On the other, she remembered all too well how difficult it was to keep your true nature, or in Monty’s case his real feelings, hidden. Being accepted, warts or feelings for your best friend and all, was all people really needed at the end of the day. Besides actual survival necessities. “This is shit, isn’t it?” When Monty just laughed she decided to plough on. “At the risk of screwing this up even more than Jasper did, do you want my two cents?”

                “No Clarke, I just wanted to talk at you and walk away, I never dreamt you’d offer advice.” And really the mischievous grin that so perfectly matched Jasper’s gave Clarke the sudden urge to write sympathy cards to Mrs Green and Mrs Jordan, because dealing with these two as toddlers and teenagers would have been a special kind of interesting. 

                “Haha. Look, Jasper is hopeless, we both know that, and what happened between you two, he handled it really _really_ badly. I’m pretty sure there isn’t a worse way to handle it... but... how about I give you a quote from tonight’s version of Jasper ‘Human Disaster’ Jordan and you can interpret it how you interpret it?” He nodded. “’Monty deserves the world Clarke, he deserves the moon.’ I don’t know Monty, I haven’t had a proper sober conversation about it, he shuts down before I can, gets all jittery, you know? But I know what ‘simple’ friendship looks like – I have it with Wells – and I know the difference.”

                “Is that because you have the other type with Bellamy?” Clarke flicked his ear, blushing.

                “Hush and wait. That story is coming. Eventually.” She inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the breathless feeling she tended to get whenever the prospect of a romantic relationship between her and Bellamy was brought up. It really was getting ridiculous. “Well, anyway, food for thought.” Monty looked thoroughly confused, and more than a little distracted, so Clarke thought she may have killed two birds with one confession. Before she could slip away though, he stopped her with a look so grave she could have sworn it was Wells sitting beside her instead.

                “I really don’t want to get drunk at a wedding alone Clarke.” His voice was level, but his eyes were pleading when he waved the bottle of wine he’d brought over earlier.

                “What about your date? Jasper said you came here with someone?” Monty smiled.

                “Yeah. I’m here with Harper. She’s one of the teachers we work with. He’s such an idiot, seriously. How many times...” He shook his head ruefully.

                “What?”

                “Jasper’s bi and Octavia’s not interested in labelling herself, at least for the time being, so they always assume I swing multiple directions too. But I don’t. I’m gay. _All_ homo. Well and truly. Harper and I are friends, and she said going to a wedding alone was pathetic. Pretty sure she just didn’t have any plans this weekend.” Clarke didn’t reply, just picked up a clean glass from the centre of the table and made grabby hands at the wine bottle. Monty’s eyes twinkled. “Now it’s your turn. Spill.”

 

                “So that’s that really...” Clarke finished half an hour later. If Monty’s eyes had been twinkling before they were full on disco balling now; at least that’s how Clarke’s mostly drunk brain described them.

                “You loooove him. You wanna kiss him, and have his baaaabies.” Monty sang. Clarke giggled and slapped his shoulder.

                “Shut UP,” she hissed, looking over her own shoulder dramatically, as though expecting the man in question to suddenly appear behind her. And really, there was a precedent.

                “Pshhh, this isn’t a movie he isn’t going to appear out of nowhere and hear your love confession.”

                “Who isn’t going to appear out of nowhere and hear your love confession?” And seriously, fuck her luck. It _was_ lucky Clarke had already finished her wine; if she’d had any in her mouth the white tablecloths wouldn’t be salvageable. Bellamy was standing behind Monty. He looked wary, although he tried to hide it behind a nauseatingly cute smile. It had been Jasper who spoke though; a night of dancing and alcohol, surrounded by people in various states of love and lust had clearly put an end to his inability to talk to Monty.

                “Aaand that’s our cue.” Monty squeezed Clarke’s shoulder as he herded Jasper away from the table. Bellamy sat down in the freshly abandoned seat, his knee knocking against Clarke’s. She forced herself not to look at him, choosing instead to follow Monty and Jasper’s progress across the room. They were talking, calmly for once, and Jasper was gesticulating wildly. The smile that broke across Monty’s face reassured Clarke enough that she allowed herself a quick peripheral glance at Bellamy who was staring straight ahead, although his hand had move an inch closer to hers since he’d originally placed it on the table. That was promising right? _Quit over analysing._ When the voice in her head started to sound like Raven Clarke knew she needed to stop drinking.

                “Look-“

                “Clarke-“

                “You go first.” Clarke would usually have barrelled on, making sure she spoke first, but he had that look on his face like if he didn’t get to hit something in the next five minutes he was going to explode. Usually it meant he really did want to hit something, but Clarke thought it probably translated to ‘if I don’t get to say this now I’m not going to try again’.

                “Clarke... I’m not the kind of guy who has regrets. Not because I have some bullshit fatalistic worldview. If something needs to be changed I change it. If I want something I take it. I don’t like lying to people, or hiding things from them. It’s pointless in the long run, and difficult to maintain in the moment.”

                “So say whatever it is you want to say then. Rip off the bandaid Blake.” Clarke knew what was coming, or at least she hoped she did. But just because he was better at the dramatic speech thing didn’t mean he didn’t need a push in the right direction sometimes.

                “Fuck it. Dance with me.” And it wasn’t a question. Just like earlier in the night when Clarke had demanded he dance with her, Bellamy was not in the business of taking no for an answer.

                “I thought you’d never ask,” came out anyway. Clarke let Bellamy lead her onto the dance floor, let him pull her close and lead her in a slow dance. Dancing with Bellamy bookending her night of free drinks, and she’d considered not coming to the wedding. Clarke’s brain was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out the best possible ending for tonight through the alcohol induced haze. She really wished she’d thought to bring more wafers. Bellamy cleared his throat, and she glanced up to find him looking mildly uncomfortable. Clarke was worried she’s got the wrong end of the stick until she realised she was biting her lip. It was an incredibly bad habit she had, and resulted in a number of split lips in times of stress.

                “Is this... I mean, are you-?” Clarke smiled up at him. She stepped closer, pulling herself flush against his chest, and nodded.

                “This is fine,” she pulled back enough to look him in the eye.“Promise.”

                She didn’t know what made her do it. Especially when they had let so many perfect opportunities pass them by. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the event, maybe it was to get rid of that last bit of uncertainty in Bellamy’s eyes. Or maybe Clarke was just sick of waiting. What she did know what the she never wanted to stop kissing him; not that night, maybe not ever. Kissing Bellamy was just like doing everything else with Bellamy. A push and pull, easy as breathing, only person this feels right with anymore type situation.When he pulled back he was smiling. Not the ‘charm your pants off’ smile, or the cocky ‘you know I’m right’ smirk, but a full on, reach the eyes, Cheshire cat eat your heart out grin. 

                “You really do defy all expectations, don’t you Princess?” Clarke’s smile matched Bellamy’s, and for a moment they just stood there, in the middle of a room full of people, holding onto each other and grinning like fools. Then Bellamy leant down again and Clarke forgot to wonder if other people were watching.

 

XX

 

                Clarke’s head was throbbing when she heard “ _7am the usual morning line up”._ Jasper had clearly decided _Once upon a Dream_ had run its course and programmed the _Tangled_ soundtrack to play instead. He insisted her phone was possessed by a Disney princess obsessed ghost, but not only was Clarke a very gifted witch who knew more about ghosts than Jasper ever would, she had also heard him talking to Miller about downloading the soundtracks for all Disney feature films. Clarke was not a witch to be messed with. Except perhaps when she woke up with a truly spectacular hangover; then she only wanted to shut her phone off, roll over and go back to sleep. Unfortunately her phone was bewitched to move further across the room the longer she waited to shut off her alarm; curse her desire to get to work on time. Lacking a better option, Clarke glared at her phone, now hovering near the windowsill, before burrowing under her covers, pulling two pillows over her head. It was a little stuffy, but on the bright side she could no longer hear Mandy Moore wondering “ _when will my life begin?”_  It’s only when she’s finally snuggled back down and on the edge of sleep when her door bursts open. Whether it’s one of the laws of the universe, or her roommates hilarious idea of joke, Clarke burrows in further, pulls the covers in tighter, and refuses to react positively.

                “Awww, Clarke. Don’t be like that! Don’t spoil my high spirits!” And really, Jasper is far too bubbly for someone who drank almost as much as her the night before. But then she had given him one of Raven’s wafers. Clarke shuffled to the edge of the bed, poking her head out of the side of her doona, and rubs her eyes groggily.

                “Because I love you, and because you seem happy which is a dramatic change from last night, but do _not_ get your hopes up. I am going straight back to sleep, just you watch me.”

                “Jasper! I told you not to wake her...” hissed the obvious reason for Jasper’s chirpiness. Clarke smiled, in as much as a person with an exploding head can smile.

                “You two worked everything out then?” Once the boys had nodded, lifting up their joined hands, Clarke closed her eyes and rolled back under the covers. “THEN LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!” she hissed as loudly as she could.

               

                The next time Clarke drifted into consciousness she could smell pancakes. That was not playing fair. Choosing between the comfort and quiet of her bedroom and pancakes? Grumbling to herself about ‘stupidly attractive stupidheads’ Clarke’s stomach was about to win out. Blueberry pancakes, best hangover cure if you didn’t have access to magic. But before she could make the huge effort to peel back the blankets and drag herself down the hallway she was bombarded with cheerful singing. Really not playing fair.

 

_“I BELIEVE I CAN FLY. I BELIEVE I CAN TOUCH THE SKY. I THINK ABOUT IT EVERY NIGHT AND DAY. SPREAD MY WINGS AND FLY AWAY.”_

 

                Bellamy stood at the end of her bed, grinning like the cat that got the canary (except not even Abby’s cat Jackson looked quite that proud of himself the first time he’d brought Abby a bird), arms spread wide. Bookending him, Jasper and Miller were mimicking the pose; Miller harmonising beautifully, Jasper screeching like Wells’ old budgie.

                “Alright, I’m getting up.” Clarke dragged herself into a relatively upright position and plastered what she hoped was a smile on her face. From the look of Miller’s face it was more of a grimace, though Jasper and Bellamy seemed content with the effort. “That was beautiful, thank you.” She groaned as she scrambled across the room and down the hall to the bathroom. Fossicking through the cupboard for a vial of Raven’s potion, her sense still dulled, she didn’t notice the boys had followed her in. It was like they didn’t trust her not to die in the attempt to make herself feel more human, and if she wasn’t so incredibly fond of them she’s cast a perimeter spell.

                “Exactly how much did you drink last night, Clarke?” Jasper asked.

                “You can talk,” she scoffed, immediately regretting speaking at her normal volume.

                “Do you remember anything from the second half of the night?” The question was innocent enough. Clarke knew Jasper had left before she and Bellamy had kissed. Surely he didn’t know. But Bellamy suddenly looked very interested in what she had to say, as opposed to his previous ‘mildly amused by your antics’ look. Monty came careening round the corner before Clarke could say anything, a slightly worried look on his face.

                “Uh, Bellamy... You know how you said not to touch the pancakes? Well, uh...” He was practically wringing his hands at this point. “You have to remember, the main reason I didn’t touch them was because you explicitly _told_ me not to, and uh...”

                “Spit it out, Monty.”

                “They’re burnt.” __  
  


                “You let them burn on purpose, didn’t you,” Clarke whispered in Monty’s ear. They were sitting at the kitchen island, watching Bellamy fuss over pancake batter, blueberries and a pot of coffee. He was muttering something to himself. Monty just looked at her with a raised eyebrow; _what do you think._ She giggled.

                “He was being a butthead, _and_ he undermined my pancake cooking skills. Which, rude.” Monty whispered.

                “What are you two laughing at?” Bellamy, with all the practice of an older sibling, didn’t have to look around at them to give off a ‘if you’re laughing at me, you better not be’ vibe.

                “Nothing,” they said in unison, sending them both into a renewed fit of giggles. Bellamy sighed dramatically, shaking his head.

                “Kids these days...”

                “Hey shut up, I’m only a couple of years younger than you,” Clarke glares, indignant. Monty popped a few more blueberries in his mouth, a knowing look in his eyes, before hopping off the stool and heading into Jasper’s room without a word. When Bellamy turned back around his raised eyebrow was the only indication Clarke had that he knew what was going on between the boys. Getting up to pour herself a coffee she smiled at him, all her boys were happy, everything seemed to be panning out, but when he didn’t smile back she realised he still didn’t know whether or not she remembered the Kiss (capitalisation well earned).

                “You’re addicted to that stuff Clarke. I swear your heart pumps black coffee. You’re a witch, shouldn’t you be into tea.”

                “Tea, really? Because I can curse in a text and have it come true I must drink tea? Now who has an obsession?” Bellamy just rolled his eyes, plating up a stack of pancakes, maple syrup and berries laid out in a ‘C’ (a habit he swore came from practically raising Octavia on his own. Clarke didn’t care; it was still cute as hell). “And here I was thinking I defied all expectations. Isn’t that what you said last night?” And really, the look on his face as he dropped the plate was worth getting a handful of maple syrup when she froze it midair. She licked her fingers and turned, walking over to the table. She looked over her shoulder to see Bellamy still rooted to the spot. “C’mon Bellamy, give me some credit. That was a memorable kiss.”

 

XX

 

                Traditionally the Griffin family Thanksgiving was held in Clarke’s childhood home. It was a quiet affair; Jake, Abby and Clarke being joined by the Jaha’s and some years, when her son was AWOL, Vera Kane. Bellamy’s had been non traditional since Aurora Blake died. Just him and Octavia, whatever food they had in the pantry, and a movie marathon to pass the time. Miller had Thanksgiving at his grandmother’s, Jasper with his parents, and Raven had had hers with Finn until that had all gone sour. This year however, Clarke had decided that what she was most thankful for was her family, so it was only right to have them all under one roof; her new roof. Logistically it was a little trickier than she had originally planned. Everyone they had invited (except Octavia) knew about magic, but not everyone knew that everyone knew about her magic, and as soon as Abby knew that everyone knew... well, the point was Clarke was too busy trying to figure out how to get everyone (Bellamy and Abby) to get along without knowledge of magic becoming an issue.

 

                “Clarke, relax. Your parents are awesome, everything’ll be fine, giving yourself a fat lip or chewing your nails down to nothing won’t help anything. Trust me.” Raven sat at the end of Clarke’s bed flicking through a magazine while an enchanted brush painted her toenails. She continued to insist that Abby was the coolest mother since Morticia Addams and it was giving Clarke a headache. Clarke knew Raven’s mum had been distant at best, and high on dark magic and negligent most of the time, so when she’d met the Griffin’s a little over a year ago she’d imprinted on them straight away. This meant that when it came to their foibles, including the big ‘we don’t tell anyone, including really trustworthy people that we love, about magic’ hang up, Raven had blinders.

                “You have met my mother, haven’t you? She’ll make Endora’s dislike of Darren seem positively innocent when she meets Bellamy.” Raven spun around to face her so quickly she nearly tumbled off the bed.

                “I’m sorry, did you just compare your and Bellamy to Samantha and Darren from Bewitched? Because if you did... now I can see why Abby wouldn’t like him.” Clarke threw a pillow at Raven’s head. It was beginning to become common practice in the apartment; a well thrown pillow could generally make any serious argument disappear.

                “You aren’t going to avoid having this conversation with me Griffin. I see all, I know all, but most especially, I know _you._ Have you two talked about it? About what you are?”

                “We’re roommates. Friends. Family?” When ‘family’ came out like a question, Clarke knew Raven had her cornered. There were very few people who could make Clarke forget what she was going to say and tell the truth instead. In fact she could count them on one hand.

                “Mmmhmm, roommates-friends-family who make out all the time, and spend the rest staring at each other’s backs and wondering if they’re thinking about you too?” She must have looked close to breaking point because Raven relented. “Honey, you know the only reason I’m pushing this is because I want what’s best for you. For both of you. And you are what’s best for each other. You work like a well oiled machine; you’d think you’d known each other for years. Besides, if Miller has to have one more conversation with Bellamy where he works his confusion and emotions out with violence and sarcasm I have to pay for drinks next time we go out, so, you know, help a girl out. Have the damn conversation. You’re Clarke Griffin, you’re not afraid of anything, except Abby Griffin’s face on report card day.” She smiled her victory smile, and Clarke knew it wasn’t pre-emptive.

                “Alright, alright, I’ll talk to him. But only if you promise to play interference between him and my mum tomorrow.” She was chewing on her nail again, but before she could do more damage Raven had slapped her hand out of her mouth.

                “Deal. Now go. I have far more important things to do that deal with your drama.”

 

                Clarke found Miller playing solitaire at the table, face screwed up like he had five seconds to choose which wire to cut.

                “Move the Jack of Spades first.” He jumped at the sound of her voice, before feigning ignorance. “Miller... Are you really mad at me?” He looked up at that, eyebrows raised.

                “Mad? No, I’m not mad.” His expression remained stony.

                “Not mad about what?” Jasper fell into the chair at the end of the table.

                “Clarke and Bellamy.”

                “Oh, yeah, we’re mad about that.” Clarke sat in confused and slightly stunned silence for a minute.

                “You _don’t_ want Bellamy and I to be together? Right, okay, and how is that your decision?” Moving quickly past confused and stunned Clarke was headed straight for nuclear levels of anger territory.

                “Shit, Clarke, no!” Miller held his hands up, placating. “We don’t want you and Bellamy to be on again off again fuckbuddies. We _don’t_ want the two of you screwing to screw up our family.” And okay, Clarke saw how that could be a problem. But she also knew that if she let her worries about Abby, and Miller and Jasper’s worries about them take over she wouldn’t follow through. Being with Bellamy would make her happy. She _needed_ to follow through.

                “Firstly, and by the way I am never talking to you about my sex life with Bellamy again, we haven’t... we aren’t fuckbuddies, we aren’t screwing, we haven’t even really talked about what’s going on yet.” Comprehension dawned on Miller’s face and Clarke realised a second too late that she’d made the same mistake in this conversation as in the one with Raven.

                “That’s why he’s been acting like high school Bellamy. That’s an easy fix then.”

                “All you have to do it talk to him,” Jasper added. “And I’m pretty sure he was a bit of a dick first year of college too.” He shuddered. “Such a dick.”

                “What am I going to say?”

                “How am _I_ supposed to know?” Miller asked. “Just talk to him. Families talk to each other.”

                “No. Families ignore stuff until it goes away,” Clarke insisted. And it was true, how else would she have worked out most of her issues with Abby as a teenager. According to Jake they were both too stubborn it was like watching two brick walls have a staring contest; not interesting, never ending, and making not one iota of sense.

                “Maybe where you’re from, Clarke, but Bellamy is more of the ‘I’m going to explode my feelings all over you in a really intense way’ kind of guy. If he’s mad he’ll slam doors or ignore you or, if you’re really lucky, he’ll yell and throw things.” Miller looked to Jasper, who picked up where he left off.

                “If he’s happy, if he cares about you, he will go out of his way to _not_ say it while showering you in gifts, favours and affection. He’s a weirdo, but he’s our weirdo.” They sounded like they’d rehearsed this speech, and in the back of her mind Clarke wondered if it was for her benefit, or a teenage and increasingly smothered Octavia.

                “This isn’t going to work if you two don’t talk. Or yell, whatever, I don’t really care. But if you ruin this for us I will not be happy.” And with that, Miller finished his game of solitaire, stood up and left. Jasper squeezed her shoulder encouragingly and nodded towards Bellamy’s bedroom door before following suit.

                Clarke sat there, staring at the four piles of cards Miller had left behind and tried not to overanalyse to the point of identifying with a deck of cards. _That’s just too weird, Clarke. Too weird._ Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, she got up and walked into Bellamy’s room. He wasn’t there. Before she had time to panic she heard _I Put a Spell On You_ playing in her bedroom; Jasper had changed her ringtone again.

                “Hello?”

                “Princess,” Clarke didn’t think she’d ever enjoyed hearing that nickname as much as she did just then.

                “Yeah, what’s up?”

                “I’m just passing the supermarket, do we need anything for dinner or did we buy it all the other day?” He certainly sounded fine. Maybe Miller and Jasper had been exaggerating?

                “No, we’re fine. I’ve just got to-“ she broke off. She’d completely forgotten to thaw the turkey. “Fuck.”

                “What? Clarke, what’s happened,” Bellamy’s voice came through the phone as she ran down the hall to the kitchen.

                “Sorry! Cooking emergency, gotta go! Come home soon, people will be arriving in a couple of hours.” She hung up, threw the phone onto the couch and hurried into the kitchen. She pulled the turkey out of the freezer; the huge turkey that could feed ten people, that was very much frozen solid. Groaning, she went to find Miller, who was in charge of all the other food.

               

                “It’s frozen.” Clarke barged into Miller’s room with her hands over her eyes; she was not having a repeat of _that_ incident.

                “What’s frozen?” He peeled her hands away from her face. “I thought you were talking to Bellamy?”

                “I was, but then he wasn’t here and he was on the phone and I remembered the turkey. Which is frozen. Solid.”

                “Shit.” They both ran back down to the kitchen, grabbing Raven as she walked out of the bathroom. When Jasper and Monty found them ten minutes later they were still staring at it, willing it to defrost.

                “What if we put it in the oven at the hottest it can go?” Jasper asked. Clarke raised an eyebrow, Raven snorted, and Miller clipped him round the ear. Monty just squeezed his shoulder.

                “Can we do something engineer-y master mechanic?” He asked Raven.

                “No but I can probably...” Clarke shook her head, Monty still didn’t know, and this wasn’t the ideal time to drop the ‘two of your friends are witches’ bomb. Before Raven, or anyone else, could come up with a good solution to their problem Bellamy walked through the front door.

                “Are you okay? It sounded like ‘cooking emergency’ but then I wasn’t sure and you didn’t pick up your phone so I,” he rounded the corner into the kitchen and seemed to realise for the first time that they weren’t alone. “Uh. So I came home.” He dumped a plastic bag near the fridge then turned around, surveying the room. “What the hell are you doing? That’s a turkey, not a TV.”

                “It’s _frozen solid_! What are we going to do?”

                “It’s Clarke’s fault!”

                “I think if I do something to the dryer I can get it defrosted.”

                “Woah, one at a time. Raven, do _not_ go anywhere near my dryer, understand?” Raven nodded. “Jasper, I don’t care who’s fault it is. What are you five?” Jasper has the decency to look sheepish. Then Bellamy turned to Clarke. “Clarke,” he spoke slowly, as if to a small child. It must have been the voice he used on Octavia growing up. “You’re a witch. Can’t you just, unfreeze it?” It was like the room collectively held its breath. Clarke didn’t look away from Bellamy, incredibly confused as to why she hadn’t thought of that in the first place. Raven’s eyes darted between Bellamy, Clarke and Monty, trying to figure out what to do next. Jasper was staring at Monty, who seemed completely unfazed by the revelation. Miller rolled his eyes at Bellamy, before stepping behind Clarke and turning her to face him.

                “You got this?” Clarke nodded. “Monty?”

                “Yeah?” Then it seemed like he finally noticed everyone was waiting for his reaction. “Oh, you didn’t know I knew? I thought your mum must have told you?” Clarke shook her head. “She and my parents work together. They’re apothecaries; Mrs Griffin comes into the store all the time. I just thought you knew. Sorry, Clarke.”

                “It’s fine. I’m just glad that’s another person off my list of ‘doesn’t know about magic’, and onto my list of ‘Abigail Griffin knows they know about magic and won’t hex me for telling’.” With a solution at hand Clarke’s brain slowed down enough for her to figure out what needed to be done and delegate. Then everyone was busy mashing potatoes, setting the table, putting the drinks in the fridge, and getting ‘the hell out of my kitchen Jasper Jordan if you know what’s good for you’. Miller was at the stove, Bellamy was leaning against the fridge – and to be honest Clarke was glad he hadn’t left yet – and she had her hands raised over the bird in front of her, willing the molecules to move faster. Of course it was then that Raven jumped up to answer the door, herding Jake and Wells through to the kitchen. Wells’ cleared his throat, eyebrows raised, and Jake looked confused; in fact, it was probably a mirror image of Clarke’s expression. She stilled, a deer in the headlights, arms outstretched, so obviously in the middle of performing magic in front of people she wasn’t supposed to, and all she could say was: “don’t tell mum”. Wells grinned and enveloped her in a bone breaking hug, the type that always made her feel better. She looked over his shoulder to see Jake chuckling quietly. He tapped the side of his nose.

                “You’re secrets safe with me, love.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Although if you don’t want her to find out you’d better wrap it up, she’s coming in as soon as she finishes up on the phone with Thelonius.”

                “Where is he today anyway?” Clarke looked up at Wells. He never spent Thanksgiving away from his dad.

                “He’s gone to visit my Nana. I had to stay in town for work though. Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss Thanksgiving with you. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you this year.” Clarke smiled, glancing over at Bellamy.

                “Yeah, I know. I’ve been completely slack.”

                “Distracted, slack, whichever makes you feel more comfortable.” She slapped his arm, and started moving back around the kitchen. Bellamy grabbed her grimoire off the counter, nodding towards her room. The room was cleared of all evidence of spellwork and witchcraft just in time, because just as Bellamy left for her bedroom Jackson – Abby’s cat who hadn’t always been a cat (but that’s another story) – ran through the front door, quickly followed by Abby herself. Raven squealed and ran over for a hug.

                “Clarke,” Abby watched her over Raven’s shoulder. “How are you?”

                “Good. Better. I’m really happy mum.” Abby nodded, moving forward to embrace her daughter.

                “Hi Mr and Mrs Clarke’s parents,” Jasper popped up behind Jake. He gestured at Monty, “I’m Jasper Jordan; Clarke’s favourite younger and more handsome brother she never had. That hideous looking creature is Nathan Miller. His is a last name only type situation. And I believe you all already know my boyfriend, Monty Green.” Clarke rolled her eyes. Ever since Roma and Diggs wedding Jasper had started dropping the word boyfriend into every conversation he could manage; and some that even his flexible use of language couldn’t quite manage.

                “It’s nice to meet you all,” Abby said, looking around the room. “I was under the impression another person lived here too.” Bellamy, timing as good as ever, walked in.

                “That would be me. Bellamy Blake. It’s nice to meet you Mrs Griffin, Mr Griffin.”

                “Please, call me Jake,” Clarke’s dad extended his hand, and Clarke let out the breath she’d been holding since Abby had walked in the door. Bellamy smiled across at her, and she thought maybe, maybe this could all work out. Then there was a knock at the door and Octavia burst in.

                “SORRY!” she flew into the room. “Forgot I had my key.” She swung an arm around Bellamy’s neck, pulling him in for a hug, before bouncing from person to person to say hello. She paused briefly in front of Wells (and if Clarke didn’t know better she’d say they knew each other from the silent conversation that seemed to pass between them), and then again in front of Abby and Jake, introducing herself as ‘the better Blake’. Clarke gestured towards the table; now that everyone had arrived her next plan of attack was to trap them all at a table where she could, within reason, control their interactions. It was a genius plan if she did say so herself; Raven had looked at her like she’d lost her mind when Clarke had outlined it earlier, but Raven wasn’t in charge of Thanksgiving dinner so she didn’t get a say.

 

                After they’d all finished Miller’s incredible food, and Clarke’s well defrosted, perfectly cooked turkey, Clarke relaxed back in her seat. Earlier in the evening they’d all gone around the table, supposedly talking about what they were most thankful for, although Jasper and Octavia had slightly derailed the conversation talking about their current significant others in too much detail for a table that included Clarke’s parents. Plates of half eaten second helpings littered the table. Jackson was curled up on Bellamy’s lap, much to Abby’s chagrin. Since accidentally turning himself into a cat a little over twenty years ago, Abby’s old apprentice had rarely left her side in mixed company, especially to sit with someone Abby so clearly distrusted. That much was evidenced from the pointed questions that had started almost immediately after they sat down. Bellamy, completely oblivious to the significance of the connection just ran his hand across Jackson’s fur every so often. Jackson also seemed to have taken a liking to Octavia, but Clarke had a theory that all animals had a soft spot for Octavia; she was that kind of person.

                “So, Bellamy,” Abby began, in a tone that suggested she hadn’t finished her interrogation. “You like cats?” Clarke shared a bewildered look with Wells.

                “Uh, not always. I guess it depends on the animal.” Abby nodded.

                “Cat’s are so much like people, don’t you think?” And there it was the crux of the issue. Had Clarke told her roommates about magic, or did Abby get to save her grizzly speech about witch burnings for a later date?

                “I guess?” Bellamy looked across at Miller for support. “I’m more of a dog person myself.”

                “We never had pets growing up,” Octavia piped up. “But there was this one cat, looked a little like Jackson if I’m remembering correctly. I used to leave milk out for the faeries, and Bell would put it out the back for cats, because according to him cats were the only ones in that equation that actually existed,” she stuck her tongue out at him. “We had one cat that came to our backdoor even before we put milk out after that. A black one, with a white mark on its tail, just like Jackson.” Abby nodded, and just like that it was crisis averted. Clarke made a note to thank Octavia later. She, Monty and Jasper had kept most of the attention on themselves the entire evening.

                “Wells, what have you been up to the last couple of months? Now you kids are grown up we don’t get a daily/weekly update anymore.”  Jake winked at his daughter. _Your secret’s safe with me_.

 

                After closing the door behind Raven, Clarke wandered back into the living room. Miller was regaling Jasper with stories of the cat he’d had when he was little.

                “You know what; I reckon I’ll get a cat.” Clarke chuckled. Now that could be interesting.

                “Have you seen Bellamy?”

                “Yeah, he was seeing Octavia to her car. He should be back up in a minute.” She waited for Bellamy in his bedroom.

                “Clarke? What are you-” she didn’t waste any more time. Jumping into his arms was probably a tad dramatic, but she had had all week to think about kissing him again, and all day to deal with the niggling doubt that maybe this wouldn’t work out. Dramatic clearly worked for Bellamy. When they finally broke apart his breathing was uneven, his eyes dark. Clarke thought it was a good look on him, especially when she was the one to put it there.

                “So, we’re doing this then?” He asked.

                “I mean, there’ll be things we need to talk about, it won’t be easy, especially with the boys to consider, but...”

                “Princess, what gave you the impression I was ever looking for easy and simple? If you being a witch didn’t change how I felt did you really think Miller and Jasper talking about sharing custody and picking sides would?” She snorted. And okay, if he could deal with the fact that she was a witch, and Abby was intense, and that she clearly snorted when she found things amusing, they were probably set. And she knew she was ready, like she said, had been since day one.

**Author's Note:**

> massive thanks to the incredible blackravenswing who read, edited, brainstormed and cheered me on as i turned what was originally a 1500w drabble into a 16k fic! you deserve all the magic in your life ♥


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